A Reason to Smile
by Ms.MaraJade
Summary: The dauphin had fallen ill days before a fireworks demonstration that travelers had promised the people of Paris. Forbidden to leave the royal palace and worsen his condition, all seems lost for the young sovereign until a certain first minister executes a plan that only a skilled marksman of his caliber can. July Fête des Mousquetaires challenge: Fireworks.


_Author's Notes_ : Breaking from my usual, I decided I'm not going for historical accuracy or any kind of real accuracy on this one. My Muse just wanted me to write a simple little one-shot that I hope you all enjoy!

 _Disclaimer_ : I do not own "The Musketeers" in any capacity with the exception of the books written by Alexandre Dumas from where these characters originated. There is no money made from this hobby, but that does not stop my imagination from conjuring up new stories.

 _Summary_ : The dauphin had fallen ill two days before a fireworks demonstration that some distant travelers had promised the people of Paris. Forbidden to leave the royal palace and worsen his condition, it seems all is lost for the curious and eager sovereign until a certain first minister executes a plan that only a skilled marksman of his caliber can. My entry in the July Fête des Mousquetaires challenge: Fireworks.

 **A Reason to Smile**

The deep cough came once again from the bed in the room, the moisture in the child's lungs causing his mother to pace nervously near the door while glancing at her son on the bed. Despite being the Queen of France and a strong, determined woman, it was this motherly part of Anne that had been feeling the waves of distress. She had done well to hide her worries while attending to her courtly duties, but in the privacy of young Louis' bedroom, she was finally able to free her anxieties without the ridicule of appearing weak.

As Anne paced, her long blonde hair had fallen loose from the twists upon her head, the tendrils waving over her shoulders, with more of the ends slipping free. She took a few more steps and felt the bright blue lace on the skirts of her dress brush against her legs, her own breath catching in her chest every time another cough would come from her son.

Stopping abruptly in her pacing, she took a step towards the child in the bed, only to have her arm ensnared by an equally worried first minister. She brought her blue eyes to his rugged features, catching everything about him in that glance. While he still wore the blue jacket of his rank, the clothes beneath were wrinkled from sleeping in them the night before. His nearly-ebon, wild hair was even more mussed than normal, the tendrils sticking out in various directions from his constant, nervous fingers brushing within it. His face needed tending, as his usually thin-lined beard had developed thick patches of stubble, and his dark irises were pleading with a helplessness in them that she had only seen once before when young Louis was sick with a similar ailment as an infant.

Anne and her beloved Aramis held that silent conversation with their eyes, a tactic both of them had perfected over the years. While looking at each other, they shared no words yet knew just what the other was thinking. And right now, they were both sharing their concerns over the dauphin's current illness, their worries a reflection of that time when he suffered through a comparable sickness in his first year of life.

Anne wondered if they could have done anything different this time when Louis had started with the congestion two days ago. Unfortunately, by the time the fever struck yesterday it was too late, and it was only increasing the flow of mucous into his lungs.

Anne and Aramis had both thought his battle with such illness was fought and won when he was but an infant, yet every year since he would develop an equally hearty sickness that settled in his chest. This year was no different, and while they knew his body would require a week of rest to fight, neither Aramis nor Anne were ever prepared for the heart-breaking cries from their child when the fever made his body ache or for when the mighty coughs wracked his small frame.

Anne admired how Aramis had spent the last two days in Louis' room, watching over him when the physician was busy elsewhere. Now, both he and Anne were forced to give the older man the space he needed while he tried the latest techniques on the dauphin to help ease his discomforts.

The table beside the bed was lined with bowls and washcloths for cleaning the fever sweat off the child's overheated skin. Additionally, the physician had set upon the table a variety of bottles containing different ingredients that he had been trained to administer.

At this moment, though, the physician was working with a steaming bowl of hot water mixed with a number of herbs. He had gently persuaded Louis to lean over the bowl and cover his head with a thick cloth, forcing the child to breathe in the vapors of the potion, with the hope that it would break up the congestion that had settled into his lungs.

Unfortunately, the result tonight was the same as it was from yesterday when they started the treatment – a wet cough that would make the dauphin nearly vomit, and then he would start sobbing from body aches and frustration. The physician did his best to provide a sympathetic ear to the child, but he also insisted that the only way the dauphin would get better was to not fight the congestion-filled bile when it rose.

"I can do no more tonight, Majesty," the older man said as he turned and placed the herb-laden bowl back upon the table and set the cloth he had used to drape over the dauphin's head off to the side. As he shifted his attention towards the queen, his white hair flopped near his eyes and he quickly brushed it aside. "The dauphin needs to rest for now. We can resume treatment tomorrow, but bed rest is still my best recommendation."

Breaking his eyes away from Anne to glance at the darkness outside and note the late hour, Aramis then brought his attention back into the room. He released her arm and moved towards their son, addressing the physician.

"Thank you," Aramis acknowledged.

The physician offered a concerned expression, "I know you were a mender in the King's Musketeers, First Minister – "

"Jean-Pierre, just Aramis, please," the former musketeer interrupted with a kind expression, "Save the title for a formal affair."

Jean-Pierre straightened his back and released a kink from somewhere in his bones. "As you wish…Aramis. But, you should know that even with your skills as a mender, a child's anatomy reacts differently from an adult, and we must exercise much patience in the dauphin's recovery. You are making yourself weary when it is time that will dictate how soon His Majesty will be well again."

"I understand, but my duties as first minister are very similar to that of a musketeer, and the safety of the royal family comes above all. I want to be present to aid the dauphin during his illness, and I know Her Majesty appreciates my attentions and concerns for His Majesty's well-being."

"Then, who am I to question the queen's wishes?" Jean-Pierre asked, offering a wizened smile in Anne's direction. He nodded formally towards the queen just before he slipped past her. "Majesty."

"You said I could see the fireworks!" Louis whined when the physician was gone.

"Majesty," Aramis smiled as he sat on the bed next to the dauphin, while Anne knelt beside the bed and began using a fresh wash rag in the bowl of clean water to wipe her son's fevered sweat away. "None of us knew that you would grow ill two days before the demonstration."

Louis pouted, his mind calculating the time he had been confined to his bed. "The fireworks are tomorrow, aren't they?"

Anne took a sad breath. "I'm afraid so, my little one, and even if you miraculously are well by tomorrow morning, you will be in no condition to attend…"

"Mother!" Louis shouted before coughing again.

Aramis put a gentle hand against the child's back and sat him upright as he patted his hand near Louis' lungs in the manner the physician had instructed the day before. Jean-Pierre had explained that the theory was it would loosen the mucous stuck to his innards and that the herbal steam would draw it out.

When the child finally settled again, Aramis rubbed his back gently.

"You must not get yourself all worked up, Majesty," Aramis said softly, "The queen is correct. Even if you are well tomorrow, the damp air that blows in from the harbor will not be warm like it is in summer. We are merely in early spring, and the coldness in the air will only worsen your condition."

Wheezing, the dauphin swiped at the tears on his cheeks. "But, now I will not see the fireworks the Eastern people visiting promised they would show us."

"That is true," Anne replied, "Our visitors must leave the following morning for their next destination. They could not prolong their stay, even though I did my best to try to convince them otherwise."

"I have all the confidence that D'Artagnan will have a very vivid commentary for us," Aramis added, "Since I have sent him in my place to watch and guard your mother."

"Then, tell the visiting peoples to do the demonstration in the palace garden, please?" Louis sniffled.

"I had already asked about the dangers involved," Anne replied quietly while pushing the cloth across her child's nose, "The harbor is safest in case one of the shells – that is the word they used for the casing – explodes improperly. Should there be an accident, they assured me it was best to dump the remaining explosives in the water where they will do no harm."

Louis' eyelids began to grow heavy as the fever was taking him again, and the tonic the physician had given him a short time ago was starting to make him drowsy.

"You must rest now, Majesty," Aramis directed sternly, despite his tone being gentle and calm. "Get well and build your strength for another time."

"I will stay with him tonight," Anne quickly commanded as her eyes came to Aramis before he could volunteer himself for the task again.

"Majesty, you will be needed tomorrow. You must get your own rest."

"I am his mother, Aramis. You have already spent last night guarding him…"

"And I will guard you both if necessary," Aramis interrupted, taking her hand within his. "Stay, if you wish, Majesty, but I will leave neither of you."

"Aramis…" Anne took a breath, only to have it catch in her chest when his lips came to her fingers.

Even in their weary state, he was still able to trigger that fluttering within her. She would always see him as that adventurous musketeer who so bravely sacrificed his safety for her and romanced her in secret. Those years they had spent apart while he was living at the abbey might as well have been a bad dream that had faded so long ago. Since the day he became first minister, it had been easier to steal so many moments, but she realized that they would never be enough to equal the depth of emotions they had for each other.

"I have always been unable to convince you to heed my decisions," Anne whispered as their eyes met and remained connected, "And, I will always welcome your company."

Shifting his eyes for a brief moment to ensure the dauphin was asleep, Aramis then brought his dark irises back to Anne once again. "Louis will see fireworks tomorrow night. I will see to it."

And, in that moment, Anne saw the promise of his words reach her as they stared. For years, she knew it had always been what they did not say that spoke louder than what they did say. As Aramis kept her fingers in his hand, his touch would appear so innocent to anyone who would walk in, but to her it was passionate and devoted. He was their protector, her lover, Louis' father, and a man who suffered all, only to grieve with the agony that he could do nothing to ease their child's torment – nothing, that is, except for whatever scheme he had planned behind those loving and mischievous onyx irises.

'I believe you, Aramis," Anne whispered. "Whatever miracle you have devised, you have my support."

"Please take the couch against the wall," Aramis offered as he finally released her fingers, only to brush his own across one of Louis' curls and move the lock of hair from his son's sweaty forehead, "And, I'll take the chair."

Anne rose from the floor, kissing Louis' forehead and then Aramis' cheek. Softly told them both, "Goodnight, my loves."

##### ##### ##### ##### #####

Aramis did not remember at what point he had fallen asleep last night, but when he awoke, he found himself curled into the lounge chair in Louis' room. A woolen blanket that was tightly knitted in undyed threads had been strewn over him, and as he untangled from its warmth he noticed that Anne was no longer sleeping on the couch. He then shifted his gaze to the dauphin, grateful that the child was still sleeping soundly, with the exception of a wheeze from his congested chest that caused the only sound to echo in the bedchamber.

After moving towards the chamber pot in the corner behind the dressing screen, Aramis handled the morning needs of his body and used the washbowl and towel he had been provided to refresh himself. As he finished and placed the clean tunic over his head that was left for him, Anne entered the room with a tray in her hands. She was formally dressed already in preparations to meet with the travelers from the Eastern lands, and her bright yellow gown was accented with orange ribbons. Her hair was recaptured in the twisted bundle atop her head, and the tendrils that were loose last night were now neatly curled and placed appropriately.

The tray she carried contained a porcelain teapot with matching cups and silver spoons. A small bowl was filled with sugar, and another tin contained the tea leaves and herbs that would be used to fill the diffusers. Finishing the spread was a small plate with three pastries upon it, the fruit-scented steam still rising from them.

"It was near-impossible to convince Laurie that I could carry this by myself," Anne commented as she put the tray onto a small table in the room, "And even more difficult to convince her that I would return to the dining hall in time for when the visitors arrive for breakfast."

Taking one of the still-hot pastries in his fingers and putting it on a saucer, Aramis gave a grateful smile. "You've never been one to shy from challenges, Majesty. I seem to remember you insisting you cook fish when you had no idea how."

"And not one of the four of you complained," Anne smiled in return, "Though, I had eventually realized in my naïve foolishness that I had not provided any of you with a proper meal that day."

Aramis laughed softly, mindful of Louis still sleeping. "Your persistence, my queen, is what has always been able to get you everything."

"Except a well child," Anne suddenly sighed, and her smile faded.

"Louis is strong," Aramis said, giving his son a quick glance, "You have told me that he fights this sickness every year and is victorious. This one will be no different, and I am certain he will outgrow these yearly illnesses in time. He is not the first child I have heard about who has survived such a consistent ailment. There was a young girl in my years at the abbey who suffered similarly, only to recover each year as well."

One of the servants, an older man with a white beard and thin hair on his head, knocked softly against the door frame to the open room.

"Majesty, forgive the interruption, but your visitors have arrived for their tour of Paris."

"Has D'Artagnan arrived as well?" Aramis asked.

"Yes, he has begun conversing with the visitors while they await the queen."

Aramis and Anne brought their eyes to each other once more, and the unspoken words passed between them.

"The physician should be along shortly," Anne told Aramis, "Perhaps today my son will find the strength to expel his illness."

Aramis bowed formally. "I will be the dauphin's strength when he does not have it, Majesty. I assure you of this while you are away."

Watching Anne nod her head silently, Aramis waited until she had left the room before he sat down to begin fixing a cup of tea for himself and his son. Jean-Pierre would be arriving soon, and then Aramis could begin the preparations he had in mind for tonight.

Just as he took a sip of the tea, Louis began stirring in bed and the first round of coughing began. Aramis hurried to his side and initiated the techniques Jean-Pierre had taught him, hoping that today would be the day the congestion would finally start to release its hold on the poor child's lungs.

##### ##### ##### ##### #####

Hours later, the sun was lazily sinking along the western horizon, and as the brightness of the day was shifting into the grays and blues of night, Aramis wiped the back of his hand across his brow to push a few stray hairs aside. He was grateful now that he had left his finely tailored first minister jacket inside the palace, where it was safe from the work he had been doing throughout the afternoon. He had no intentions of listening to the long-winded ranting that Francois had given him the last time he had returned after defending himself in a skirmish. There was no convincing the palace launderer that it was better for the poor jacket to become a mud-splattered and gun-powdered wreck than for the first minister to return in a body casing. In fact, the more Aramis allowed himself to think about it, the more he realized that he actually feared the palace launderer. To save himself from Francois' verbal abuse, Aramis had thrown his old brown leathers over his clothes to keep them from being coated in the remnants of the various substances he had been using.

Taking a satisfied breath, Aramis gazed up into the sky and saw the first star of night begin its silver glow. Dropping his eyes now, he studied the layout of the stonework on the ground throughout the palace gardens. His eyes moved about the pathways, and Aramis could only hope that the patterns he had laid out would produce the desired result.

He caught a separation in one of the patterns while doing his inspections, and as he moved towards it to correct the problem, he lit the torches that were placed in various sections of the gardens before it grew any darker. The torches were not needed to brighten the landscape, simply to mark enough light for him to target upon when he was ready.

Confident that his stage was set, Aramis cautiously walked one last time through the gardens, careful to avoid certain sections on the ground. After a long, few moments, he moved back into the palace and continued on his destination until he returned to the dauphin's bedroom.

Upon entering, Aramis heard Louis finishing up his latest coughing fit, and gave Jean-Pierre a few moments while he praised Louis for finally getting some of the sickness out of his chest.

"Majesty, how are you feeling?" Aramis asked when he stepped closer to the child and his physician.

"It hurts," Louis replied in a gravelly voice, as he wiped a tear from his cheek. Then, he studied Aramis, and sad curiosity replaced his momentary misery. "Are you quitting first minister?"

Smiling, Aramis shook his head. "Quite the opposite, Majesty. I was busy all afternoon and did not want to ruin my clothes. You know how Francois can get. Now, would you like to join me on the balcony? This night is unexpectedly warmer than it had been all month."

"Can I?" Louis asked as he looked at Jean-Pierre.

The old physician packed his belongings and gave Aramis a sly glance, despite reluctantly agreeing to the first minister's plan earlier in the morning. "I believe you will be in fine hands, Majesty. You are showing the first signs of expelling this demon of an illness, and as long as you don't wander from the balcony but come right back to your bed when Aramis tells you, then I shall see you in the morning."

Aramis and Louis watched Jean-Pierre make his exit and then Aramis wrapped Louis in a blanket. He took the child in his arms and carried him the short distance down the hall to the balcony that overlooked the center of the garden.

They heard a sound in the distance not unlike thunder, but also not unlike a canon firing. Instinctively, both father and son turned their heads towards the noise, but neither could see anything more than the flash of lightning against the dark sky.

"Aramis, a storm is coming!" Louis said nervously with wide eyes. "You know I don't like thunder."

"Fear not, Majesty. Those blasts and illuminations are the fireworks your mother is viewing."

Aramis then put Louis onto the wooden seat that overlooked the gardens and brought it closer to the railing. For a moment, Aramis regretted that Anne could not be here with them as he was certain she would have been appreciative of his ingenuity.

"I should be there with Mother," the dauphin sniffed as he wiped his sleeve across his nose.

Aramis reached down near the corner of the railing where he had positioned four long-range muskets that were standing and awaiting his attention. He had primed each of them earlier in the day by setting them with gunpowder, musket balls, and flints that merely needed to be ignited.

"I promised your mother I would let you see fireworks," the former musketeer said with a grin while lighting each of the flints.

Louis pouted, "But, mother said they would be too dangerous in the gardens."

"Our visitors were kind enough to explain that fireworks are merely gunpowder arranged in a particular explosive casing."

Aramis then took a breath as he brought one of the muskets before him and studied the layout of the gardens, seeking the small pile on the ground that was marked by the torch in the empty planter above it.

"I just removed the casings."

Firing, Aramis' shot was true as the heated ball landed into the small mound of gunpowder. Igniting the powder, sparks began flying over the ground in swirls and spirals. As the spark followed along the marked path Aramis had made, a series of zig-zags brightened on the ground until the sparkling line faded into darkness when its path reached its end.

The rumbling of the fireworks in the distance continued, and Aramis glanced over to see Louis' smile suddenly fade.

"It's done so quickly," the child sighed.

"Patience, Majesty," Aramis laughed, "That was merely the first round."

Lining up the next musket, Aramis released the trigger, and the impact of the musket ball caused a bright flash to the pile of gunpowder on the left side of the gardens where there was a wide walkway. He followed quickly with a shot on the right side from another musket, and the patterns on both sides were nearly identical, although a number of seconds apart.

The sparks followed a line that connected to a fruit bowl-sized explosion that lit up the ground in orange and red before moving along to another spiral. The pattern repeated between the larger explosions and the spirals until the line of gunpowder faded a few moments later.

Louis clapped his hands and giggled with joy, despite his cough still trying to get the better of him.

"One last display, Majesty," Aramis said as he aimed the final musket beneath the burning torch in the center of the garden.

The fireworks in the distance had become thunderous, the sky brightening in a mad display of flashes in white, orange, and red. Still, the explosions could just not reach far enough into the sky for either Aramis or Louis to see the actual sparks. Refusing to be distracted, though, Aramis honed in his attention onto the final pile of gunpowder and released the trigger to start the last display.

Four large sparks moved out from the center of the garden, each following the path of the walkways, and each bright line sizzling with an orange glow. The ground almost seemed alive with creatures that burned their way across the earth, each one attempting to escape the gardens as quickly as they could. They zigged and zagged through the turns of the rocky slabs in the ground, rounding corners and twisting as they moved over the jagged angles in the garden paths.

Moments later, the sparks finally reached the far corners of the gardens, and the sparks blossomed into bright, orange flames that resembled circular flowers before they all faded into nothing.

The fireworks in the distance had grown silent, and the garden burned once again with only the faint light of the torches.

"That was amazing!" Louis laughed and coughed and laughed some more.

"Majesty, you must settle or you'll choke yourself unconscious," Aramis said with a smile as he gave the child a few hearty pats on his back to help break the congestion.

After a few moments and some wheezing, the dauphin settled his coughing and took in a deep breath of the gunpowder-filled air.

"Was that really was fireworks look like?" the child asked.

Aramis gathered Louis in his arms again and carried him inside, towards his bedroom where the acrid smoke from the gunpowder would not upset his cough further.

"Fireworks are mostly made of gunpowder," Aramis reiterated, expanding on his earlier statement while settling the child onto his bed, "So, instead of firing them wildly into the air as one would a cannonball and watching the sparks fall to the found, I set them on the ground in a controlled arrangement, where I could make them do whatever pattern I wanted."

"I hope Mother enjoyed the visitors' fireworks as much as I enjoyed yours," Louis said sleepily as he rested his head on his pillows. "Thank you, Aramis."

"You can thank me by getting well, Majesty," Aramis replied softly, pushing one of the child's blonde curls off his forehead.

"I will. I promise." Then, Louis reached out to grab Aramis' arm before he could step away. "You will stay with me in my room again tonight, won't you?"

"Of course, Majesty. Until you are better, I will not leave your side," Aramis answered quietly.

Louis snuggled himself onto his bed and released Aramis' arm as the excitement of the evening settled down, making him tired. The child released a deep cough before closing his eyes and after a short while, he was resting once again in that wheeze-filled slumber.

Aramis fell into the chair he had slept in the night before and watched silently as his son fought the illness that preyed upon his small body. Of all the battles and duels and skirmishes Aramis had ever experienced as a soldier and a musketeer, this was the hardest one he ever had to burden. He may have portrayed strength in front of both Anne and Louis, but he was aching and crumbling inside, as he was unable to do little more than be a spectator, especially when he was a man of action. He did not know how Anne had been so strong each year when Louis' illness struck, and Aramis could only hope that he would continue to give his son reasons to smile when the sickness he battled continued to give him reasons to cry.


End file.
